


The Meaning of Snow

by Ysilme



Series: The Meaning of Snow [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Age Difference, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Imladris, Injury, M/M, My Slashy Valentine, Third Age, Unrequited Love, Winter in the Mountains, or perhaps not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysilme/pseuds/Ysilme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the verge of adulthood and very much in love, Elrohir is reluctant to meet again the elf who does not return his feelings. But the pitfalls of travelling in winter bring them together in an unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Travelling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aglarien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aglarien/gifts).



> Happy Valentine, Aglarien! Thank you for your great prompt, which bred a plotbunny I was very happy to write. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> **Content:** Forces of nature, minor character death, non-graphic description of injuries.  
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of transformative fiction based on JRR Tolkien’s creation, done purely for enjoyment. No infringement is intended and no money is being made.  
>  **Notes:** My most heartfelt thanks to Curiouswombat, Keiliss and Lordhellebore for idea-bouncing, hand-holding and beta-wrestling a monster on very short time, and to my flist for helping me figuring out travel- and survival-related issues. This story wouldn't have happened without you. All remaining mistakes are my own.

o-o-o-o-o

A pale sun rose over the Dimrill Dale, revealing the stark reflections of snow-covered mountains in the still waters of Nen Cenedril. Thin rays of sunshine painted the peaks of Caradhras and Celebdil in a warm gold, setting them off against an overcast sky. The low lands were still bare this early in firith, but the dark clouds seemed a harbinger of snow.  
  
On the bank of the lake, a small group of travellers had gathered around a small fire. Some were talking, others just watching the sun rising while they drank their morning tea. Two young elves stood out, not only for their inky-black hair among the blond and brown tones of their fellows, but also for being the spitting image of each other. One of them was talking to an imposing, silver-haired, elf pointing up into the mountains and the valley, before he returned to his companion.  
  
“Grandfather hopes to have the pass crossed by nightfall,” Elladan said, sitting down at his brother’s side and handing him a steaming cup. “We will break camp shortly. There is a storm looming, but if we wait the pass might be impassable.”  
  
Elrohir, always taciturn in the morning, only grunted in reply, looking over to where Celeborn sat cross-legged, deep in conversation with the captain of their guard. It felt strange to see their grandparents like this, clad in leather trousers and a woollen tunic under a leather jerkin. Both had also spent the night in simple bedrolls under the stars like everybody else. Odd, Elrohir thought, to know them for so long and still travel in their company for the first time.  
  
His brother tied his bedroll to a saddlebag. “I wish we could have stayed longer.”  
  
Elrohir grinned. “I dare say! This has nothing to do with a certain golden-haired archer, has it now?”  
  
Elladan blushed, knowing only too well that he could not hide anything from his twin. “Nothing to be done about that, though. You know that we need to be home in time to celebrate our first yén.”  
  
“Yes, of course.” Elrohir sighed, emptying his cup and packing it away. “I do not need a celebration to mark the fact that I am now considered an adult. This is all just for show.” He also did not need another occasion to emphasise his young age, particularly not to a certain elf, but this was not something he would talk about.  
  
“Have you taken into consideration that this occasion also marks the date for your elders to no longer be responsible for you and your education, deeming this as a welcome reason to celebrate?”  
  
The twins looked up, both grinning about the amused voice of their grandmother. Elladan raised his eyebrow in an uncanny likeness to their father. “Ah, so this is what this celebration is about! And I thought mother just wants to parade us in front of all the simpering maidens set out to catch a mate!”  
  
“I was not aware that there were any simpering maidens in Imladris,” Galadriel remarked drily, sitting down with crossed legs, as graceful in trousers and tunic as she was in her ethereal gowns. “It seems an odd date, true, but it is tradition, so we go with it. It is now so rarely that we see a young elf grow up and reach his full potential, that this alone is a reason to celebrate in my eyes.”  
  
Elladan smirked. “So you do think we have reached our full potential, grandmother?”  
  
Elrohir moaned in dismay, swatting his brother on the arm, but Galadriel only laughed.  
  
“As if I would ever tell you that, brat.”  
  
She turned to Elrohir, looking at him with that pervasive gaze of hers. “Do not worry,” she said softly. “It will not be as bad as you fear.”  
  
He looked down, fiddling with the buckle of his bag, wishing he had not braided his hair and could hide behind it. As usual, his grandmother had guessed right away what troubled him. Or perhaps she even knew it? He could never tell. Elladan and he were returning home, after nearly two decades spent in Lothlórien, for this celebration of their one hundred and forty-fourth begetting day which marked the final transition of a young elf into adulthood. From now on, they would be regarded as fully grown in every respect, and given the full duties and responsibilities of an adult. He actually looked forward to this, longing to put behind him this time of passage for young elves, and find his place among his peers.  
  
Elrohir would have much preferred to undergo this transition anywhere but in Imladris. For Imladris was the place where he would forever be a child to some, and particularly a certain elf whom he desperately longed to see him as an adult. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the memory of their last encounter, when Elrohir had, after years and years of agonized longing, finally dared to voice his feelings, and had been turned kindly, but determinedly down. When, not long after, their grandparents had invited the twins to an extended stay in Lothlórien, he had been more than glad to accept.  
  
Elrohir felt Galadriel’s arm coming around him and allowed himself to lean into her gentle hug for a moment. Then came the call to break up camp, and he jumped up, relieved to occupy his mind with other things.

o-o-o-o-o

Dancing snowflakes accompanied the travellers as they made their way down the steep incline to the Hidden Valley. They were looking forward to the comforts of the Last Homely House, weary from the sudden onset of winter which had hindered their journey by forcing them to travel farther out into the plains than intended. Even following the Bruinen had been demanding through the ceaselessly drifting snow, which had covered everything with an unusually thick layer of white.  
  
The twins rode ahead, side by side, as soon as the path allowed. After they had passed the first guard post, familiar horn signals preceded them to announce their arrival, and they sped up, eager to meet their parents and to be back home. Yet, entering the courtyard, they were not met with the expected reception party, but with a surprising commotion centred around a group of exhausted travellers who had arrived just a short while ago. Neither their father nor one of his usual attendants were in sight. They dismounted, and, while Elladan took care of their horses, Elrohir went in search of somebody to see to the Lord and the Lady of Lothlórien, and to find out what was going on. He had not come far when he was nearly run over by a tall, blond, elf hurrying down the stairs from the house, and found himself enfolded in a bear hug by the captain of Imladris.  
  
“Elrohir!” Glorfindel exclaimed delightedly, “you are back! Where is your brother? Why have you not been announced?”  
  
With a relieved grin, Elrohir hugged him back and nodded towards the rumps of their steeds vanishing around a corner. “He is taking the horses to the stable. We have been announced, I heard the signals myself, but it seems people are too occupied to notice. Whatever is happening here?”  
  
Glorfindel sobered.“A travelling party hailing from the Greenwood. They have been surprised by the snow storm and were caught in a rockslide, taking some of them with it. They just arrived with many injured. Your father is seeing to them as we speak.”  
  
“How terrible. Are all of their group accounted for?”  
  
“No. Three are still missing, as it was impossible to get down to where they must have been carried.” His face grew rigid with barely contained worry. “Erestor is among them.”  
  
Elrohir paled and staggered back, saved from falling by Glorfindel’s firm grip on his arm. “Erestor? But how - why - why has he been in the Greenwood?” The closest friend and right hand of his father was notorious for his dislike of travelling and had not left their valley since before the twins were born.  
  
“He was visiting the Greenwood over the summer for the bonding ceremony of his brother but wanted to be back home in time for your celebration.”  
  
They were interrupted by the arrival of Galadriel and Celeborn. Glorfindel went to greet the high guests and make sure they were well cared for. Elrohir stood numb, digesting the shocking news. Nobody knew, nobody must know, in fact - but Erestor was the one he longed for, as much as he was afraid to see again, the one who - Elrohir bit his lip to suppress a sob. The one he loved ever since he could remember, but who would never love him back.  
  
He felt arms coming around him and buried his face in the familiar embrace of his brother. His brother, who knew even if they had never talked about it, who knew all the secrets of his heart, as he knew his.  
  
“I just heard,” Elladan said, “but I believe it is not as bad as it sounds. The captain of their escort says that the rear guard, where Erestor was, was not affected as badly, but the rockslide prevented them from getting down to them. A search party is just about to leave.”  
  
“I must go with them, Lado, I must!” Elrohir lowered his voice as his grandparents were now approaching with Glorfindel, but it was too late, he had been overheard.  
  
“That is out of the question.” Glorfindel laid his hand on Elrohir's arm, but he shrugged him off.  
  
“Please, Glorfindel, you do not understand -”  
  
The captain shook his head.  
  
“No. Not right now, Elrohir. You are exhausted from your own journey, you would be more of a hindrance than a help. I am leading a second rescue team which leaves at first light. You can come along, provided you get a good night’s rest and have a decent meal.”  
  
Elrohir’s shoulders slumped, but he conceded defeat. Glorfindel was right, of course, he was exhausted, but also horribly worried. 

o-o-o-o-o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nen Celebdil - Mirrormere  
> firith - fading, the season between autumn and winter


	2. Searching

  
Glorfindel kept his promise, and the next morning saw both brothers among his rescue team, setting out as soon as it was light enough. On the evening before, a meeting held in preparation had given them the opportunity to study all available maps of the mountain region between Imladris and the vale of the Anduin, and to learn more of where the missing elves were most likely to be.   
  
The travellers from the Greenwood had followed the High Pass which crossed the Hithaeglir a bit to the north-east of the Hidden Valley and, on its descent from the summit of the pass, followed a small vale formed by the little creek which would eventually become the mighty Bruinen. Not far from its spring, at a rock outcrop overshadowing the trail, a steep ravine led off the pass proper to the north-west. It had been here that the rockslide had happened, carrying those who made it back to Imladris down along the trail, and tearing most of the path down, into the ravine. When the three who were now missing had tried to cross the remaining path to close up to their fellows, more of the ground had broken off and pulled them down into the ravine. It had been difficult to tell for the driftingsnow, but at least two of the escort swore they had seen movement down there later, although they could not tell if it was from the horses, or from people. Taking into consideration the small number of uninjured, the inaccessibility of the ravine, and the still raging snow storm, their captain had decided to continue to Imladris with utmost haste and to send help, instead of risking even more lives.   
  
With the help of Elrond’s detailed maps, it had not been difficult to determine that the missing could only be in that ravine close to the summit of the pass. However, getting there was another matter. Apart from above by the trail, two possible ways were determined.  
  
One originated in Imladris itself, following the northern tributary of the Bruinen upstream through the narrow valley which led eventually to the small brook which sprang in the ravine in question. The valley was known to be accessible by foot only, and probably not even that after such a heavy snowfall. The first rescue team was taking this way, taking horses as far as possible and then trying to reach the ravine on foot.   
  
Glorfindel’s team was to follow an alternative route which was much longer but also deemed to be more likely to succeed. It meant crossing the High Pass, though, and approaching a valley below the ravine from the Rhovanion side by means of an older, rarely used, pass northwards of the High Pass.   
  
It was already getting dark when Glorfindel’s team arrived at the site of the rockslide. Glorfindel decided to make camp for the night as crossing the, now much narrower, High Pass trail had become too dangerous even in the dusk.   
  
When their horses had been tended to, and their bedrolls spread, Elrohir urged his brother to accompany him up the short distance to where the ravine led away from the pass. It was fully dark by now, but the clear sky and the snow allowed for a surprisingly good vision. No sound could be heard but the low murmuring of the creek alongside the trail, and the muted sounds of their camp further down. Elrohir stood as close to the new escarpment as he dared, staring down. The steep, rocky walls cloaked the ravine in shadow, making it impossible to discern anything but a smooth layer of snow, covering even the freshly-torn ground of the rockslide.   
  
“It cannot be,” he whispered, “Erestor cannot be dead.” He looked up, his eyes dark holes in the dim light. “Do you think I would feel it, if he was dead or alive, even if - even if nothing is yet between us?   
  
Elladan stepped closer and put his arm around his shoulder. “I honestly do not know, Rohi. I have never experienced anything of that kind, but then, I also have never been as deeply in love as you are.”  
  
Elrohir leant into the embrace, taking comfort from his brother’s closeness.   
  
“But I also cannot believe that Erestor might be dead,” Elladan continued. “He is strong and resilient and has survived worse. Look, none of those caught by the main rockslide died, and they were in the thick of it. The rear guard cannot be off worse. But getting back up here would have been impossible for them with the steep slopes and the loose ground from the rockslide. They might already be on their way back, following the brook downstream, and might even have already met he first team. Or they might be injured and thus unable to continue, as I fear their horses stood a much worse chance. We just need to get to them, and all will be well.”  
  
Elrohir nodded. His brother’s reasoning was sound enough, although he knew this was rather what Elladan wanted to believe, than what was reasonable. For his part he thought it unlikely that any of the victims down there had survived unharmed, but he also refused to believe anything other than that.  
  
“I am going down.”  
  
“What?” Elladan looked at him unbelievingly.  
  
“I am climbing down into the ravine. Whoever has survived there is likely to need help; and the sooner, the better. I am a fully trained healer and a good climber, and if I go along the side over there, I am well free of the dangerous area.”   
  
“Glorfindel will have a fit. He will never allow it!”  
  
“I know. I will not ask him,” Elrohir said with conviction. “I will sneak away before it gets light.”  
  
“You really mean it.”   
  
Elrohir just nodded.   
  
“Then I will come with you,” Elladan said.   
  
“No. I need you with Glorfindel, to convince him not to send somebody after me, and to continue with the agreed plan. Whatever I will find, I will not be able to bring them back home. And -”  
  
Elrohir exhaled audibly. “I know it is dangerous. I will not have us both put at such risk. I must go, because - well, you know why. But if anything should happen to me, I want to know that you are safe. Promise me, Lado.”  
  
Elladan swallowed, but nodded, and Elrohir embraced him.   
  
“Thank you. I promise you to be very careful.”  
  
“I know, and I have no doubt you are capable of managing. But, Rohi, is he worth this?"  
  
“I would do the same for everybody else. But yes, he is.”  
  
“I did not realise until now how much he means to you,” Elladan said softly, kissing his brother on the brow. “May the Valar guide and protect you. But come now, we need to return, or somebody will get suspicious. You also need to eat.”

o-o-o-o-o


	3. Finding

  
Elrohir lay awake through the night, fearing not waking up early enough, but also wanting to think his plan through again. His saddlebags had been transformed into a knapsack with the help of a few straps, and he had added as many emergency rations as Elladan had managed to filch unobserved from one of the pack horses to the healing gear he was already carrying. He also had some tools and an extra blanket, and his and Elladan’s Hithlain ropes - a most welcome gift from their grandmother during their visit.  
  
Once the sky changed to the deeper darkness just before sunrise, Elrohir exchanged a quick hug with his brother, got up, and strolled away as if to relieve himself. When he was sure the night guard paid him no attention, he crept over to the horses where his improvised knapsack lay besides other saddlebags, strapped it on with his rolled-up blanket and cloak on top and made his way off unseen.  
  
Arriving at the top of the ravine, he lost no time in observation, but followed a narrow edge along the western slope until he was well free of the area of the rockslide. It was a bright day, and the slope was steep enough to be mostly free of snow until about halfway down. The climb seemed easy enough and, at the beginning, Elrohir advanced as quickly as he dared without taking any risk, preferring to be out of earshot when Glorfindel realised his absence.  
  
About an hour later Elrohir found a small ledge wide enough to allow for a rest. He turned to look up and saw several people up on the path. One, with telltale golden hair, waved frantically down to him, but thankfully he was too far away already to hear anything. Elrohir waved back. Glorfindel seemed to have resigned himself to Elrohir’s solo attempt, as nobody was following him, and he could now also see the members of the team making their way along the new scarp of the trail.  
  
Surveying the steep rock face below and seeing the wall becoming gradually less steep further onwards, Elrohir decided on a descent diagonally downwards along the ravine rather than attempt the direct climb from his resting place. It was still early in the day, and he could easily afford to give security the preference to speed.  
  
The sun had nearly reached its zenith when Elrohir reached the bottom. The descent had taken him even longer than he had anticipated, getting more difficult when the ground had eventually changed to slippery, snow-covered rubble. Tired from the climb, he unstrapped his pack, took out a small piece of lembas and his waterskin, and sat down on a rock for a quick rest. He looked around, carefully surveying the upper part of the narrow valley.  
  
To his right, the rockslide covered about half the distance towards the end of the ravine below the trail, a mess consisting mostly of rubble and small rocks with the odd larger boulder in between, all partly covers by snow. In front of it, the snow limned everything with a thick coat, hiding anything underneath, including the small brook he could hear murmuring softly just below his position. A handful of larger, snow-covered mounds were scattered over the part with the deepest snow, about the right size of horses, or big boulders. No sign of life was to be seen, no disturbance of the snow, no piece of man-made equipment, not even along the small brook which came to the surface a bit further downstream, meandering in a flat bed of rubble towards the opening of the ravine into the valley below.  
  
Elrohir felt his heart sink. From here, it looked much less likely that somebody could have survived a tumble so far down, carried away with such a mass of rock, mud, and rubble. But then he remembered the report of the escort, remembered that movement had been seen from above, after the rockslide had settled. If they had seen it even in the snow storm, then it must have been somebody alive, not just some debris moved around.  
  
He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. If somebody had survived this, they would not linger about in the snow, but rather have sought shelter, if they were still able to, or tried to stick together or close to the horses to use their body heat as long as it lasted.  
  
The northern hillside consisted of a nearly vertical rock face and was already deep in the shadow of the winter sun. From down here, he could make out a few crevices and overhangs large enough to serve as shelter for a man or more. Elrohir decided to begin his search over there, as it seemed most likely, and strapped his pack back on. Taking a few steps, though, he found that with his pack on he was too heavy to walk easily over the snow, and sank in deeply. So instead he continued along the south slope further down the valley until the snow became thin enough to manage more easily.  
  
When he was halfway across, Elrohir gasped with surprise: hidden from view until now by a snow drift and an overhang, he could see an opening, either a deep recess or a cave, large enough for several people. But not the size of it had caught his eye, but a red blob on the outside, hanging about waist height up on the rock wall. It must be some kind of cloth, fixed in some manner at the rock.  
  
A surge of hope flooded him with new energy and made him faint with hope. There was no way this could have been there by accident. Somebody was there, somebody alive. Hurrying onwards, Elrohir kept close to the rock face for easier footing until he reached the opening.  
  
The red blob was indeed something man-made, a knitted scarf wedged in to a small crack and fixed there with another stone so it would not be blown away. Just barely suppressing a sob, he stepped inside the opening.  
  
After the blinding white snow, the interior of the cave was pitch black, and Elrohir forced himself to wait for his eyes to adapt. He unslung and put down his pack and then stood, listening. At first he could only hear his own breathing, strained from having hurried and being agitated, but as his vision improved and the shape of the cave became slowly visible, his breathing evened out as well, and he could hear something else. Another person breathing, loud and with difficulty, but definitely breathing.  
  
“Erestor?” he called softly. “Is anybody here?”  
  
A rustle and a low moan were the answer, and it took all his self-restraint to stay where he was. He could still not see well enough to move, lest he stumbled over or stepped onto somebody lying on the ground. With dismay he noticed that while his eyes had now mostly adapted, the light was still not sufficient, as the cave lay in the shadow and most of the light was blocked by the overhang. He should have brought a torch, Elrohir reprimanded himself, and then remembered the small oil lamp each healer carried in their kits for emergencies.  
  
Stepping back outside, he opened his pack and took out his healing kit. It contained a specially-made, small cylindrical brass lamp with a folding foot to save space, and a leather flask with oil. He checked the wick, filled the fuel chamber and then got out his tinderbox to strike a flame. It took a few tries as his hands were trembling, but finally he managed to coax a tiny flame from the tinder, enough to light the lamp with the help of a thin wooden stick. When it burned steadily, he put everything back together, took the lamp, and went inside again.  
  
The cave was larger than he had imagined, about the size of a small hall, and higher up than he could see. The floor was smooth, dry rock, and there, towards the back wall, lay a large bundle the size of two people. Nothing moved, but the laboured breath was still audible, as well as another soft moan.  
  
Suddenly afraid of what he might find, Elrohir walked over, his heart beating in his throat, and knelt down besides the makeshift pallet, carefully setting the lamp down at a safe distance.

o-o-o-o-o

  
At first, all Elrohir could discern were cloaks and blankets spread awkwardly over two people nestled up to each other, with the thick cloth drawn up over their heads to protect them from the cold. Carefully, he folded back the top part, revealing the dirtied, bruised faces of Erestor and an auburn-haired, unfamiliar, elf. Both lay with closed eyes, but Erestor frowned at the absence of the cover.   
  
“Elbereth!” Elrohir breathed, faint with relief, sending a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar.   
  
The other elf remained motionless. He was very pale, and it was his laboured breathing Elrohir had heard from the entrance, indicating that he might be unconscious.  
  
“Erestor? Can you hear me?”   
  
A faint moan was the answer, and Erestor’s face distorted painfully. He must be injured, but it was difficult to tell with the low light and the blankets. Elrohir laid his hands gently on Erestor’s forehead, closing his eyes in concentration. Like everybody with an aptitude to healing he was able to feel the energy flow in another’s body. But while his training had been completed years ago, he yet lacked the experience to diagnose by the healing touch alone, and needed additional visual and tactile examination. He could tell Erestor's life was not in immediate danger, although he was in great pain; for the moment, this had to suffice. What he could do, though, was give a small amount of healing energy to ease him.   
  
When he sat back, Erestor opened his eyes. His gaze was dull with pain, wandering aimlessly around.   
  
“Elrond?”   
  
“No, it is I, Elrohir.”   
  
“The Valar be thanked,” Erestor murmured. “I was wondering if we would be found.”  
  
Elrohir untied a small hip flask containing Miruvor, unstoppered it and held it to Erestor’s lips. After he had taken a few sips, Elrohir noted with relief that Erestor’s gaze now held his own easily.   
  
“I am alone for now, but a rescue team is on its way,” Elrohir explained. “This valley is not exactly easy to reach. But I carry food and healing supplies. Tell me, how are you faring?”  
  
Erestor shifted a bit. “I am all right. Please, look after him first.” He turned his head slightly towards the unfamiliar elf.   
  
“Of course.” Elrohir got up and went to the other side of the makeshift pallet. It was clear that Erestor was far from all right, but as he was conscious and in no immediate danger, the unconscious elf indeed needed to come first.   
  
“Do you know his name?” Elrohir asked while he examined the head and mouth of the elf before laying his hands on his forehead.   
  
“Annuil, one of the escorts from the Greenwood. He has not woken yet, and I think his ribs are broken.”  
  
Elrohir nodded and concentrated on his touch, giving again a small amount of healing energy after his examination.   
  
“He is not in mortal danger, at least. I need to examine you both properly before I can do more, but first I want to give you a bit water and see if I can make a fire. Do you know what happened to the other guard?”  
  
“The other? No. There was only the two of us.”  
  
Elrohir frowned while he got up and fetched his pack from the entrance. “The captain of your escort reported three horses and their riders being carried down here,” he said.   
  
Erestor bit his lip, but shook his head slightly. “Annuil walked in front of me when the trail broke suddenly away, dragging us down. I do not remember if there was anybody else and what happened later, until I came round again.” His voice, rough from thirst, went out.  
  
“Easy,” Elrohir said, untying the waterskin he carried under his jerkin to prevent it from freezing, “you can tell me everything later. I will go looking for the other guard when I have taken care of you.” He unstoppered the waterskin, helping Erestor to drink by holding his head slightly up. Erestor drank greedily, but when Elrohir released him again he moaned, the movement obviously causing him pain.   
  
Annuil’s lips were as parched as Erestor’s. As he was unconscious and therefore unable to swallow, Elrohir poured a bit of water in a cup, soaked a clean cloth in it and dribbled a few drops of it into his mouth. When nothing adverse happened, he repeated the process several times, to ease at least a bit of the dryness. He would need to repeat this as often as possible, but a gentle pinch to the skin showed that Annuil was at least not yet dehydrated.   
  
Erestor had closed his eyes again and seemed to be dozing. With the most urgent things taken care of, Elrohir decided to investigate further outside and see if he could find the other guard, and perhaps fuel for a fire. He left the lamp burning for Erestor, took a small saw, a few straps and the Hithlain rope out of his pack, and went back outside.

o-o-o-o-o


	4. Caring

  
  
It was still early in the afternoon and would be light for a few more hours by Elrohir’s estimation. From his different vantage point, he took another survey of the valley, hoping to find similar shelters in the opposite slope, or anything at all which might have given protection to another survivor. But there was nothing, not even a crack large enough to merit investigation. This left the five or six larger snow-covered mounds.  
  
Without his pack on, he did not sink in as much and was able to advance at a reasonable pace, but the snow was so wet it was still slow going. Elrohir started with the mound closest to the cave entrance, carefully brushing the snow away. It was indeed a horse. He hoped it had died quickly and dug carefully around it in the faint hope of finding the missing guard who might lie close, or even had sought protection against the large animal. But all he found were saddlebags and two wrapped bundles, still tied to the saddle despite the tack being badly torn. The decoration of the leatherwork was unfamiliar to him, so this must be one of the guard’s horses from the Greenwood. Reaching down to cut the bags loose, he nearly impaled his hand on the shards of a broken bow, half-buried under the animal. Some firewood at least, Elrohir thought with satisfaction, and braced his foot against the saddle to extricate the bow. He placed everything he wanted to take with him on top of the horse and then went to the next mound.  
  
About two hours later, Elrohir returned to the cave. He had found the second guard dead, at the foot of the rockslide, and three more horses. One of them was a pack horse, carrying an unexpected bounty: a small armful of firewood and a basket with some travelling provisions. He had fashioned a kind of sleigh from the wooden pack frame and the cloak of the dead guard, enabling him to bring all his findings back at one go.  
  
Back at the cave, Elrohir carried the first load inside and checked on the two injured elves. Erestor was awake, and Elrohir told him of his findings while he dribbled more water into Annuil’s mouth.  
  
“I am sorry about the other guard,” Erestor said softly. “I do not even know his name. He was a quiet one, good with the horses.”     
  
“He will not be forgotten,” Elrohir offered. There was nothing else he could say.  
  
Elrohir went to fetch the other luggage, and, when everything was inside, took a hatchet and chopped up the pack frame and the bow. One bundle contained kindling and, finally, he was able to make a small fire. They needed to be careful with the wood, and also with the lamp oil, for Elrohir did not know how long it would take for one of the rescue teams to reach them. But he needed sufficient light to examine and treat the two injured as well as some hot water, if possible.  
  
When the fire was burning well, he filled the small cauldron he had found by the pack horse with water and set it close so it would warm, and came back to kneel besides the pallet. His healing kit was already open and spread out at the side.  
  
Erestor had watched him while he went about his tasks, remaining mostly silent. Now he sighed.  
  
“Please, be careful.”  
  
Elrohir nodded, helping Erestor to drink another draught of Miruvor. “I will.”  
  
He took the covers away, frowning at what he saw. Erestor’s clothing was torn in many places, and where skin showed, it was as bruised as his face. His right arm lay oddly, drawn against his body, and the lower leg on the same side was bent in an unnatural angle. He must have taken quite a tumble, and it was difficult to judge what injuries might be hidden from view. Partly to ease the examination, as he did not want to cut away all the clothing because of the cold, and partly to distract Erestor, he asked:  
  
“Can you tell me what happened? I only know that there was a rockslide.”  
  
Erestor nodded, wincing occasionally as Elrohir’s hands now slid inside and below his clothing and gently palpated his body.  
  
“We were in the middle of the snow storm, just over the summit of the High Pass, when there was this loud rumble. I was in the rear, with Annuil and the other guard behind me, when I heard cries and shouts and panicking horses, and somebody shouted that we should stop. We dismounted, unable to see much in the snow drift, and then somebody said we should move on, but be careful and lead the horses as part of the trail had gone. Then I just remember that the ground moved beyond me and I was going down. Ah!”  
  
He hissed as Elrohir was now carefully moving his injured arm. “The collarbone is broken, but the arm is just sprained and bruised, no broken bones,” he said, placing the lower arm back on Erestor’s chest.  
  
“It feels worse,” Erestor muttered, “but I suppose I must not complain, considering that I dragged Annuil all the way here.”  
  
“You what?” Elrohir looked up, staring at Erestor.  
  
“I was out for a while, I do not know how long, although it was still light. I found myself lying away from my horse, with my arm and leg hurting like hell and my head spinning. I soon realised that I was alone and needed shelter, so I started to drag myself towards the rock face, thinking it was the most likely place to find shelter. It started to snow again and grew dark, and I bumped into Annuil quite by chance. He was unconscious, and I crawled at his side and covered us with my cloak to keep warm, I was too exhausted for anything else.”  
  
Elrohir nodded and continued his examination.  
  
“In the morning, we were covered by snow. I knew we could not stay there, and spotted an overhang that looked promising. The snow actually made it easier, for it did not hurt as much to crawl in it, and I could drag Annuil along on his cloak. Imagine my relief that this was actually a cave and not only an overhang! By then, it was snowing again, and I took Annuil’s scarf and tucked it in a crevice outside as a signal. Did you see it?”  
  
“Yes, perfectly well. It was actually the scarf which caught my attention first.”  
  
“Good.” Erestor looked satisfied. “Well, that was it. I dragged us inside, found that Annuil had a rolled up blanket slung around his shoulder, which I managed to untie - by then, I could not use my right hand any more. I crawled up beside him onto his cloak, spread my cloak and the blanket over us, and then I do not remember anything until you found us.”  
  
Elrohir shook his head. “This seems unbelievable, Erestor. Even a trained warrior would have had a hard time managing such a feat, and you -”  
  
“And I am just a boring office sitter,” Erestor finished dryly.  
  
Elrohir blushed. “I was twelve when I said that, and I was sorry even then! Will you never let me live that down?”  
  
Erestor chuckled. “I have always found it rather funny, and you look so cute when you are teased.”  
  
Cute? Erestor found him cute? Taken somewhat aback, Elrohir continued with his task, filing the thought away for later. As gently as he could he cut open Erestor’s trousers and boot, but he could not completely avoid the leg being jostled. Erestor hissed again, biting his lip and clutching the blanket with his good hand until his knuckles went white.  
  
“Forgive me,” Elrohir said softly, taking the Miruvor flask again and holding it to Erestor’s lips. The worst was yet to come, and he had not wanted to give Erestor anything stronger before he knew what he dealt with.  
  
“Not your fault,” Erestor said, looking up at Elrohir. Despite the pain he was in, his gaze held the same warmth and kindness it always had, but also something new, and wholly unexpected: trust.  
  
Elrohir felt his knees go weak and was grateful he was not standing. Erestor, always strong, imposing and master of any situation, erstwhile teacher and now mentor to his brother and him, the same Erestor who had never shown any weakness, was now trusting him, without reservation. His head spun, and he had difficulties forcing his mind back to the task at hand.  
  
Erestor said: “I know you need to set the fracture. Do it now, and be quick, please, Rohi. My courage only lasts so far.”  
  
Elrohir took his hands, pressing them gently. “Not much courage is needed. I have poppy syrup and will give you a dose before I start.”  
  
The relief in Erestor’s face created an odd feeling of tenderness in Elrohir, but he pushed this thought away as well for later.  
  
Measuring a dose of the syrup and helping Erestor to swallow it, he went to the luggage to find something to use as splint while he waited for the poppy to take effect. Erestor was not completely out, but sufficiently relaxed and disconnected that the setting of the bad, open fracture to his lower leg would be bearable.  
  
He came back with the two long knives he had found tied to Annuil’s saddle, as he wanted to keep all available wood for the fire. Wrapping them thoroughly with shredded cloth, he checked Erestor again and then set swiftly to work. Erestor did not stir while Elrohir cleaned the wounds, set and splintered the leg and tended to the other injuries.  
  
When Erestor was dressed again in clean, warm clothes, Elrohir turned to Annuil. Thankfully, he found nothing worse than two broken ribs, but it worried him that the Greenwood elf had still not shown any signs of consciousness. At least he had no head injuries. After bandaging his chest tight enough to fixate the ribs without hindering his breathing, which was still laboured, Elrohir dressed him anew as well and then sat comfortably by his head for a healing treatment. Like before, he laid his hands on Annuil’s forehead, concentrating and following the flow of the patient's energy with his own. Where he found it diminished, he strengthened the energy with some of his own, and where it was cumulating, usually in areas where the patient felt pain, he gently directed it away, to ease pain and encourage healing. He was still a novice at this art, and his abilities far beneath that of an experienced healer, but he hoped it would be sufficient to improve Annuil’s state until they were back at Imladris.  
  
When he was done, the laboured breathing had evened out, and Annuil now lay peacefully and relaxed. Elrohir smiled, grateful for this immediate sign of improvement, and humbled that he possessed such a gift, and was able to use it to this purpose. He would do the same for Erestor later, but he needed to rest and eat first as such a treatment also drained the healer.  
  
He went to tend to the fire, found a piece of bread and a strip of dried meat, and sat down by the heap of luggage from the dead horses. Even under the best circumstances it would be at least two days until help arrived, and maybe more. The wood would not keep as long even if he kept a fire only at night, and he also had not enough oil for the lamp. While he went through the bags to see what could be used as fuel or for any other purpose, he gradually felt a sense of peace settling over him. It had been only a few days since their departure from Lothlórien, but it felt as if he had become another person since. With a smile, he remembered his apprehension of returning home, and of meeting Erestor again, the one he loved.  
  
Nothing had really changed between the two of them, but he realised that the bitter feeling of unrequited love had gone. He still felt the same towards the older elf, but he knew that it did not matter so much whether his feelings were reciprocated or not; he found it more important that he had Erestor’s friendship and respect, and the deep, reassuring knowledge he would never lose it. But he thought that he could, perhaps, now hope just a little. 

o-o-o-o-o


	5. Remembering

The wind was rattling the shutters and blowing gusts of dancing snow in every corner, piling up snowdrifts the like of which Imladris had rarely seen. Winter had set in unusually early this year and presented the inhabitants of the Hidden Valley with huge amounts of snow even as early as firith.  
  
A lithe figure, heavily bundled up against the cold, hastened to reach the shelter of the main house, fumbling with stiff fingers with the latch before it opened and admitted him inside. It was early yet, although darkness had already descended, and he heard the sounds  of dinner being prepared from the kitchens while he hurried along the corridor and up the stairs. On the first floor, he turned into another corridor, opened a door and entered.  
  
Blessed silence welcomed him, and Elrohir let out a contended sigh. There were few better things than coming home tired and cold to the warmth and cosiness of his own room, where his beloved was waiting for him.  
  
“I am home,” he said, starting to take off the outer layers of his clothing.  
  
“I noticed as much,” came the dry answer.  
  
Elrohir grinned. His dark-haired mate was sitting by the fire with his back to him and had not turned, but Elrohir did not expect him to. He went into the bedchamber to discard his clothes and wash his hands. When he came back, he stepped up behind the other, trying to slip his hands inside his tunic.  
  
“Do not even think of it. I know what you plan to do with these icicles you call fingers.”  
  
Elrohir chuckled. “But my hands are cold!” However, he obediently took them away, placed a fond kiss on the other’s crown instead and sat down at his feet, as close to the fire as possible. Warm hands started a gentle massage of his shoulders, and from another chair, a red and black feline stood up after some stretching and came over to him to curl up on his lap.  
  
“Hullo, Morusso,” Elrohir said, burying his fingers in the warm fur.  
  
“I gather everything went well?”  
  
Elrohir nodded. “Yes. It took long even for a first birth, but mother and child are fine. Can we go down to dinner soon? I am famished.”  
  
Erestor shook his head. “There is no need, I ordered dinner to be brought up.”  
  
“Oh, great!” Elrohir’s face lit up, and then fell again. “Damn! I have totally forgotten what day it is today. I am so sorry, Erestor.”  
  
He turned to look up at his beloved, truly contrite about his omission, but Erestor just laughed out loud.  
  
“It does not matter, Rohi! I know well enough what it means to be the mate of a healer, and I have celebrated so many begetting days in my life already that I do not mind you spending this one with another. You are here now, which is all that counts.”

o-o-o-o-o

Later, they sat in front of the fire, sharing a bottle of wine.  
  
“Do you remember, that first winter?”  
  
Erestor chuckled. “Oh yes, how could I forget it? My first journey in several yéni, and I got caught in a rockslide, broke my leg and nearly froze to death in a dismal cave somewhere up in the Hithaeglir.”  
  
Elrohir raised his eyebrow. “So this is what you remember about that time?”  
  
“Yes, but not only this. I also remember a young, determined elf who went out to find me, took care of me and made me comfortable under the worst circumstances. I remember fire coaxed out of stone, delicious food made from emergency provisions and warm, comfortable nights in his arms.”  
  
He put his glass down and reached for Elrohir, drawing him close.  
  
Elrohir leant into the embrace. “My memories are rather about keeping that fire going with nearly no firewood, providing sustenance needed by my patients, and keeping you distracted from the time and the wait for the rescue party.” He chuckled.  
  
“However, there is another memory about this time, one of the best of my life.”  
  
Erestor raised is eyebrows in question. “And what might that be?”  
  
Elrohir took a strand of black hair, so much finer than his own, and fingered it thoughtfully. “You know, I had been quite reluctant to come home. After I had blurted my juvenile infatuation at you and had kindly been told that I was far too young to think about love, I felt so hurt and humiliated, I never wanted to see you again, convinced that you would never stop seeing the child in me.”  
  
Erestor tightened his embrace a little. “Oh dear, I had forgotten that. I did not want to hurt you, of course, but there is no easy way to deal with such occurrences.”  
  
“You mean you had declarations of eternal love from adolescents on a regular base?” Elrohir smirked.  
  
“No, of course not, silly. Stop spouting nonsense and give me back my glass.”  
  
Elrohir complied, and after taking a sip, Erestor asked: “What changed your mind, then?”  
  
“We had to come home, of course, mother would never have forgiven us if we had missed our First Yén Celebration. I am sure she made our grandparents accompany us to assure our timely arrival.”  
  
Erestor laughed. Elrohir grinned, too, but then he sobered.  
  
“Yet upon our arrival we heard about the rockslide and that you were missing, and all I could think of was my fear for your life. Finding you and taking care of you in the way I did helped me come to terms with my feelings. I realised that what I felt was not infatuation, but love; but also that because I loved you, it was more important to me that you were well and happy, no matter what this meant for me. I realised that I wanted to be close to you, even if it was just as a friend. I hoped for more, of course, but I was ready to accept that it might never happen.”  
  
“And over the years, love happened after all,” Erestor said with a fond smile.  
  
“It only took another yén, after all,” Elrohir deadpanned.  
  
Erestor kissed him on the temple. “Well, you were right - I really needed to perceive you as an adult. Your brother and you had been like children to me and, for the longest time, I was unable to feel different about you. I still have parental feelings for Elladan at that. I am glad that you did not give up on me, though. Thank you, beloved. Thank you for saving me, for loving me, and for your patience until I realised what you mean to me.”  
  
Elrohir took Erestor’s glass and put it down. Tightening their embrace, he kissed Erestor tenderly, and then swept him up and carried him over to the bedroom. “Better show me. Hands-on experience is always best, as you keep reminding me.”

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Aglarien for My Slashy Valentine 2016 for the following prompt:  
>  _Requested pairing = Erestor/Glorfindel or Erestor/Elrond; or Erestor/Elrohir or Glorfindel/Elladan._  
>  Story elements = 3rd age Imladris, winter, inclement weather, someone is lost returning home. Your choice who and how and why. I would be perfectly happy with a G or a PG13 story is the muses lead there.
> 
> Tolkien tells us in the _Laws and Customs Among The Eldar_ that Elves reach the shape and stature of an adult around their 50th year, while some are fully-grown only around their 100th. I’m happily adopting the fanon notion of equalling the age of 50 or 60 with maturity, but also think that for a people with a more or less infinite lifespan, a period of transition between youth and the full responsibility of an adult seems likely. So does a celebration to mark that date which must be an important one for a young elf. Since Elves are also counting time in long years, or yéni, equalling 144 solar years, I find it logical to chose not their 100th, but 144th begetting day for this occasion. 
> 
> My original idea for this story centred around this celebration for Elrond’s sons, and what this would mean for Elrohir’s future life in particular. But the story turned out to have its own mind and led me somewhere else, so we don’t see the celebration and the events around it taking place after all. I hope I still managed to show Elrohir in this transition from youngling to mature adult not only physically, but also in his own perception.
> 
> For those who are as geeky as me, there's a [sketch](http://www.winterwitch.de/galerie/artwork/illustrations/MSV2016_sketch_ravine.jpg) of the ravine as well as of Elrohir's [lamp](http://www.winterwitch.de/galerie/artwork/illustrations/healer_lamp.jpg).


End file.
